Nifer’s blog

I'm fairly amused at the extent of the creation of "politically correct" terminology. In particular I'm amused (and annoyed) by the insistence of some people to say "independent school" instead of "private school."

Yeah, whatever.

Not everyone's life is worth twittering.

I'm just saying.

TMI, people. TMI.

Sunday, as we all know, is Mother's Day.

In my case, it's also my mother's birthday. Given the kookiness of our relationship, this is handy. One gift does it all.

My mother is throwing a fit right now because my sister is not planning on spending the ENTIRE day with her. All sorts of, "But I am your mother," like comments.

She (still!) seems not to recognize that both her daughters are also mothers and perhaps our children would like to do something for or with us, or we with them.

Sigh.

 

When I exercise, I watch DVDs on the computer in that room. I have several movies that I rotate through - movies I can watch over and over again, usually in 30 to 60 minute chunks.

Today on the rotation was "Bend it Like Beckham." Really fun movie if you haven't see it.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers is in the movie. I have just one word for him, and that word is the title of the little post.

I have the "Eats, Shoots & Leaves" daily tear-off calendar. It is always good for a chuckle.

On Saturday was this:

"Of course, if Hebrew or any of the other ancient languages has included punctiation, two thousand years of scriptual exegesis need never have occured, and a lot of clever, dandruffy people could definitely have spent more time in the fresh air."

An asute comment on not just punctuation, but history and religion as well.

The split infinitive  really annoys me, however.

Yes, I've been ignoring this space. I've been quite verbose elsewhere.

I'll try to do a bit more.

In the meantime, most of my efforts are directed here.

Have you noticed how people blow off RSVPs more and more lately. It's really pissing me off.

Last week I sent out forty (40!) invitations to a coffee tomorrow morning for a school committee candidate.

I have thus far heard from twelve people (12!) and of those, I had to directly ask six of them. That means twenty eight (28!) people have not responded.

In the end, it doesn't matter to me whether you can actually come or not. I don't want to force you to be political in this town if you don't want to be.

But have a little common courtesy and RSVP if the invitation requests it.

 

Ruthie in Minnesota tagged me on this topic. Go over and check her out. (She paid me a very nice compliment, too. Thanks again, Ruthie. I’m very flattered.)

I blog to:

• To try to process some emotions around a major health crisis my oldest son endured in the spring of 2003.
• To practice, practice, practice writing and hopefully regain some self-confidence around writing. I write technical material professionally but have been in a difficult professional situation for a while that has been eroding that confidence.
• To record some of the ups and downs of my life and my family’s life – before I forget them completely.
• As an outlet for emotions over some of the crazy and weird things that happen outside my immediate family over which I have no control.
• For fun.

I don’t have a lot of people to tag on this, but to start, I’ll tag Beba, Pantheist Mom, and Enjay.

Beba, Pantheist Mom, Enjay and I all have children who were due in March, 1996. Beba and Enjay’s girls have the same birthday, and Pantheist Mom and I have sons born the same day. And we’ve all met in real life in years past. They are wonderful people.

The rooms in the PICU are fairly utilitarian, as you might imagine. Although there was a single painted acoustic ceiling tile that a child could see when laying flat on his or her back, there really wasn’t much interest in the room.

 

While A was in the hospital, we tried our best to perk things up. I had my brother-in-law print out some pictures, A’s first grade class sent cards and we hung those on the wall, and P’s room at daycare made a banner.

 

About half-way through his stay, a friend brought a mobile to put up in his room. This one in fact:

 

It was great. As A started to emerge from sedation, it was something with movement for him to focus on – and it calmed the adults in the room in the same way.

 

One of the doctors noted just how great this particular mobile was because it was plastic and could thus be cleaned and sanitized given the meds and bodily fluids that sometime fly around such a hospital room (don’t think to hard on that, ‘k?). She said it would be nice to have more of those.

 

When A finally was released, I tracked down the manufacturer of the mobile and acquired their product list. I identified all the mobiles that were made of plastic and then asked for (first) a donation of the mobiles to the hospital, and then (what they said yes to) a major discount. Several weeks after A’s release, the hospital received twenty unique mobiles from Flensted Mobiles of Denmark. They are in the rooms and halls of the PICU and we’ve been told they are a welcome addition to the space. (I stopped by to try to see them exactly once. My blood pressure shot up before I even entered the PICU, so I've decided it's better to just take their word for it. Too much visceral memory.)

 

Since then, we give one more mobile each April to the PICU along with an update on A (and a new photo) and renewed thanks for all they did for us. It’s important for us to let them know how we continue to appreciate all they did for A and for us, and it’s more personal and directed than the other fundraising we do for the hospital (more on that in a few days).

 

Now that it’s March, it’s time to start thinking about this year’s mobile.  Last year we gave them this one:

 

 

 

What do you think?

My nephew is going to be okay. Phew, phew, phew. There may be some hearing loss in his right ear, but if that's it, then that's fine. It could have been so much worse.

 

We've learned more about what actually happened. Witnesses, police reports and the like, And can I say, if I ever become the type of parent that refuses to acknowledge or address irresponsible, dangerous and even illegal behavior by my children, please call me on it. No, not my nephew, the kid who was driving.